


Senebty

by DaimeryanRei



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:23:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8727220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaimeryanRei/pseuds/DaimeryanRei
Summary: In his ambition to put his son on the throne, Akhenaden steals the Millennium Key and rearranges Seto’s soul room. Unbeknownst to Akhenaden, Seto has romantic feelings for his Pharaoh, which are reciprocated... the sudden clash in loyalty creates anguish and horror, culminating in a terrible, real nightmare.





	

Title: Senebty  
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters  
Pairings: Scandalshipping (Pharaoh Atem x High Priest Seto)  
Warnings: **major character death!**  
Summary: In his ambition to put his son on the throne, Akhenaden steals the Millennium Key and rearranges Seto’s soul room. Unbeknownst to Akhenaden, Seto has romantic feelings for his Pharaoh, which are reciprocated... the sudden clash in loyalty creates anguish and horror, culminating in a terrible, real nightmare.  
Author’s note: Based upon a Tumblr fic prompt (posted [ here ](http://emmyfais.tumblr.com/post/114895449880/terrible-fic-where-akhenaden-steals-the-key-and): what would happen if Akhenaden steals the Key and rearranges Seto’s soul room, causing his loyalty towards his Pharaoh to shift? ‘Senebty’ is Ancient Egyptian for ‘farewell’.

Key: ----- = scene change

\-----------------------------------

“This is the last one for today, Great Pharaoh.” Carefully, Mahaad laid out a papyrus scroll on the wooden table. As he leaned forward, the Priest’s pendant, a large golden circle with a triangle in the middle and five dangling prongs, shifted with the movement. The prongs rattled slightly; it was the only sound in the serene room. The Pharaoh’s audience room was light and large, reserved for his court of Priests and his vizier Shiamun; all of them were present. Isis sat in an armchair, richly decorated with inset jewels and fine stones, a gift from the Nubian ambassador. She was flanked by Karim and Shaadah, standing tall. The eldest Priest, Akhenaden, usually took the high backed chair in the corner, as it offered the most comfort with its many cushions. Mahaad and High Priest Seto, both young and strong, stood next to the Pharaoh, as they had the most tasks to perform. “It is a request to increase the numbers of guards around the Palace.”

Seto snorted loudly. “What is the matter, Mahaad? You cannot handle a couple of thieves on your own?”

Mahaad shot him an angry glare. “The guards have reported an increased activity of thieves and tomb robbers. Apparently, there is even one amongst them who calls himself the ‘King of Thieves’.”

“You are too soft,” Seto gave back. “We should not waste time by giving these miscreants expensive and tedious trials. Just throw them in prison!”

“Many of these people are innocent, victims of unfortunate circumstances,” Mahaad protested. “With our Items, we can look into their souls and judge them; it is often…”

“Prison,” Seto interrupted him rudely. “Anyone who dares to set foot in the royal tombs should be drawn and quartered for interrupting the holy rest of our ancestors!”

“Enough.” His voice wasn’t loud or commanding, but when the Pharaoh spoke, everyone in the room fell silent, even the Priests who had been softly talking in the background. “Mahaad, I grant you your request.” He took up a reed brush, dipped it in ink and signed the scroll.

“You have my gratitude, Great Pharaoh.” Mahaad took back the scroll and looked triumphantly at Seto. “I will make sure all the tombs are safe and well-guarded.”

“You better.” Seto frowned at him, then dismissed his fellow Priest from his mind. He glanced at the Pharaoh and raised his voice: “That will be all. You are dismissed.” Now that the audience was over, the Priests left the room one by one after wishing their Pharaoh a good night; it was getting late. Mahaad was the last one to retreat, closing the doors behind him. Seto allowed himself a moment of silence before turning towards the other.

“Atem,” he breathed, only daring to use the Pharaoh’s first name in the privacy of this room. 

“You should not be so stern with Mahaad,” Atem answered, voice curt. He took the sting out of his words as he accompanied them with a soft smile. Seto bowed to him nonetheless.

“My apologies. I simply cannot bear the thought that scoundrels and thieves would set foot in the royal tombs.”

“Me neither. He is a good man, Seto. He works hard and his devotion is unquestionable. I would not know what to do without him.”

Seto closed the distance between them. He wasn’t interested in talking about Mahaad or anyone else. He carefully gauged Atem’s reaction, as he looked at him with a penetrating, observing gaze. “You are tired. You should rest. It has been a long day.”

“It has been a long day for you too.”

Without a second thought, Set put his Item on the table. Every Priest had an Item and the wielder was very protective of it, almost borderline possessive; yet in the comfort of Atem’s presence and the privacy of the audience room, Seto couldn’t care less about the long, golden Rod with the round sphere on top, flanked by razor sharp wings. The Pharaoh had the most priceless Item of them all: the magnificent Puzzle. It dangled from a sturdy piece of rope around his neck on his chest and due to their significant height difference, it pressed against Seto’s abdomen whenever Atem slid his arms around his waist. He wouldn’t dream of asking his Pharaoh to take the Puzzle off; he was so used to its familiar weight that he would actually miss it if it weren’t there. Atem got up from his chair, opening his arms. Seto didn’t hesitate for a second to return the gesture, his arms sliding around the Pharaoh’s shoulders. He didn’t mind at all that he was much taller; he enjoyed cradling Atem so close to him and pressing kisses on the top of his head. 

“I wish you could stay,” Atemu said. 

Seto moved one hand up to touch his hair, those multi-colored thick strands he loved to rake his fingers through. “I wish I could stay, too,” was his answer. When had their love bloomed? It had been slow, barely noticeable at first. The late Pharaoh had passed away rather unexpectedly, leaving Atem to ascend the throne. In the first years after Aknamkanon’s passing, Atem and Seto worked hard to keep the nation and the Priests’ court stable, fending off threats of war and negotiating peace and economical treaties. 

As Pharaoh and High Priest worked so intensively together, their duties and obligations numerous, nobody questioned them constantly being in the presence of each other. Seto, even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, admired Atem for his strong work ethics and his sense of justice. The interests of the nation and his people were the young Pharaoh’s utmost priority and Seto had often slow him down from working too hard. When had he noticed other things about the Pharaoh… his Pharaoh? Slowly but surely he started to think of him as ‘his’. He couldn’t lay claim on Atem, ruler of Khemet, son of the Gods… but he thanked the same Gods for his Pharaoh, with so much spirit in his eyes, those reddish-dark eyes framed by those long, dark lashes. The Pharaoh with that smile that tugged at his perfect kissable lips (the thought of kissing Atem had shocked Set to much at first, that he had skipped meetings for at least three days), and that voice that sang to him, no matter if he sounded angry, grumpy, happy, joyful or commanding. 

Seto had never held it for possible that Atem would feel the same, let alone reciprocate… but at one late evening, after having dinner together, before Seto could retreat to his own quarters, Atem had touched his upper arm, a gesture more intimate than the High Priest could ever imagine. It had left him speechless and he hadn’t been able to sleep that night. Atem hadn’t said anything, it had been just a touch, but its effect was overwhelming… the hope in his heart had flared up, burning in his soul, as if he could truly have a future with the Pharaoh together. Atem certainly didn’t make any haste to find himself a Queen, but the chance of him taking Seto as a life partner was slim to none. 

“Not tonight,” he said, though it was hard to say the words. “You really need your rest, Atem.”

He scooted even closer, as if he could disappear into Seto’s embrace. The Puzzle pressed a little painful into Seto’s abdomen, but it was a very small price to pay. Inhaling Atem’s scent, stroking his hair and enjoying his proximity was far more important - but he had no other choice but to break up the embrace. So far, they had only stolen hugs and kisses… and it was hard to keep it that way. They longed to be together, as a couple, to spend a night together, just the two of them.

“I will rest,” Atem said, “if you will do so too.”

“Of course.” Seto refused to show his own fatigue. He had so many requests, so many scrolls and so many duties to take care of and it was still nothing compared to Atem’s workload. Seto had scoffed at Mahaad’s news about the increase in thieving activities, but it had him worried as   
well. “Good night, my Pharaoh.”

“Good night, my Priest.” He indulged himself with a kiss, their lips lingering. Seto picked up the Rod and after one more longing look at Atem, he left the audience room.

\--------------------------------------------

The guards were used to see him doling around the royal palace at this late hour. Despite his age, Priest Akhenaden wasn’t the one to retire early for the night. His body demanded the rest, but his mind refused to lie down and sleep. It wasn’t because of the workload, the continuous responsibilities or the increase in duties. It was because of the Pharaoh. Atem. He was the son of Aknamkanon, his own brother. Akhenaden wanted to spit on the floor. He didn’t necessarily _hate_ his brother; the well-respected, kind Pharaoh who had died so tragically, leaving his young son to carry on his task. He had truly loved him; yet it hard been hard to swallow that Aknamkanon had become Pharaoh, leaving himself to live in obscurity and of little importance.

Restless, he went around the corner, walking down another hallway. Aknamkanon had been too weak. His constant wish for peace had made him a pathetic leader, afraid of showing his teeth. It hadn’t been until an invading army had rattled the gates of the royal palace before he finally agreed to Akhenaden’s suggestion to use a spell from the mysterious Millennium Tome. In his brother’s defense, he would never have agreed to the slaughter of the residents of the Kul Elna village to create the Millennium Items, so Akhenaden simply hadn’t told him - and now he was the only one left with knowledge of the full potential of these Items. And the most powerful of them all, the Puzzle, was dangling from Atem’s neck. Not even Akhenaden had dared to keep or demand that particular Item for himself. It was bad enough that he had to gouge out his own eye for his Item, but the Puzzle…! It should have belonged to him! No. It should have belonged to Seto. It was his rightful Item, not the Rod. Seto should’ve ascended the throne, not Atem. His mind kept spinning in circles until he realized his wandering had brought him to the Priest’s quarters. Maybe it was time to retire for the night after all. Akhenaden walked further down the hallway, when he heard ruckus in the distance. A couple of guards hurried past him.

“What is going on?” he demanded to know. One of the guards halted and bowed to him.

“Something’s happening at the main gate,” he said. “I was going to wake the High Priest and the Pharaoh…”

“There’s no need for them to be woken up,” Akhenaden barked. “How dare you even think of disturbing their rest? Go to the gate and make sure the problem is taken care of!”

The guard quickly made himself scarce. Akhenaden grumbled. Could no one think for themselves these days? Did they all need their hands held by the Pharaoh, and ask his permission for every little thing? If only Seto were the Pharaoh… he would cut an end to this pathetic nonsense and rule this nation with a firm hand! Akhenaden shook his head irritably and was about to continue his walk, when he saw the open door. Unbelievable. Shaadah had left the door to his quarters open! He had probably been called away to deal with whatever that was happening at the main gate. It wasn’t like the Priest to be this shoddy. Akhenaden reached for the door to close it himself, as a faint flicker of gold caught his eye. It couldn’t be. No! In his hurry, Shaadah had forgotten his Item. Akhenaden licked his lips. This was an opportunity of a lifetime. Without hesitation, he entered the room and quickly grabbed the Item, hiding it in the folds of his robes. Akhenaden left the room just as quickly and hurried towards the quarters of his son… Seto.

\-------------------------------------

Seto was sound asleep; the commotion at the gate hadn’t woken him up. From where his quarters were located, it was hard to hear much noise anyway; it was so silent and serene that it would almost be a sin to interrupt it. Akhenaden took out the Key and traced its outline with his fingers. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if he should be really doing this, but his resolution was stronger. This was for the best, for the future of the nation, for the future of his son. He held up the Key and watched it light up. Seto mumbled in his sleep and rolled over to his other side. Akhenaden knew the vast powers of the Item in his hand. Shaadah used it to look into one’s soul; did he realize he could _rearrange_ that very soul? A surge of excitement went through him. Yes, yes, this was the best decision he’d ever made.

He concentrated and entered Seto’s soul room. Ah yes, there it was… neat and efficient, just like he had imagined it to be. He was tempted to research Seto’s emotions and find out if he knew about Akhenaden being his father, but he didn’t have the time. Shaadah could return any moment to his quarters or send someone to fetch his Item… and if he found out it was stolen, all hell would break lose. Quickly, Akhenaden searched for and found what he was looking for. He got nauseous when he saw the large statue of Atem in the middle of the soul room. Sickening! How could someone be so devoted, so loyal? Snarling, Akhenaden reduced the statue’s size significantly. He trashed the table in the corner, destroying the neatly arranged stack of scrolls, shredding the fragile material. He changed the simple chair into a copy of the Pharaoh’s throne. If Seto didn’t think of taking the throne for himself, he would make him think it… and act upon it! 

When Akhenaden was done, he panted from the exertion. The mental strain was impressive, earning him new respect for Shaadah; the Key was a powerful Item to control, much stronger than he thought. Silently, he checked up on Seto. His facial expression hadn’t changed. What did he expect? His son was asleep, but something… yes, something had changed after all. His features hardened, his jaw tightened, his lips drawn into a bloodless line. Akhenaden grimaced. Of course Seto would fight the changes to his soul room. His grimace turned into a grin. His fight would be in vain. Now he had to return the Item. The Priest went back to Shaadah’s quarters and put the Key in the same place where he had found it. Not a moment later, he encountered said Priest in the deserted hallway.

“You are up late, Akhenaden,” Shaadah said, not sounding surprised.

“So are you,” he said, casually. “What did I hear about troubles at the main gate?”

“A crowd was kicking up a fuss,” Shaadah answered. “It looked like they were going to storm the palace and the guards fought back, resulting in a few injuries. The man calling himself the King of Thieves stirred up the crowd. We were not able to catch him, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately, indeed. What audacity! I am sure you did everything you could.”

“I will present my report to the Pharaoh in the morning. Good night, Akhenaden.”

“Good night.” He walked away, this time his grin evolving into a rare smile. Tonight would finally be a good night.

\---------------------------------------

“Good morning, Seto.” Isis’s pleasant voice drifted towards him and he returned the greeting, albeit strained. He had woken up this morning feeling rather… strange, irritated. As if he hadn’t had slept enough - well, his nights were short, but somehow… it felt different today. Seto was the last one to enter the Pharaoh’s audience room, and that had never happened before. It only added to his increasing irritation. The other Priests greeted him as well and Seto returned it, except for Mahaad’s, looking at the man as if he saw a cockroach. And then, there was the Pharaoh. Atem sat at the intricate table, his long, slender fingers resting on one of the papyrus scrolls in front of him.

“Seto, there you are,” Atem said, lips curling into a smile. Seto made a grunting sound, eliciting a confused look from the Pharaoh. A moment of awkward silence followed. 

“We are ready to begin,” Mahaad announced, his voice slightly wavering. Seto would usually start off the meeting by calling out what needed to be done, but he remained silent, his face an uncharacteristic blank.

“Seto, are you all right?” Akhenaden asked, with concern in his voice. Everybody in the room stared at Seto, whereas Seto stared at Atem. His eyes traveled towards his neck. The rope from which the Puzzle dangled rested against that flawless, sun-kissed skin and he reached for it. He wanted to tug at it. He wanted to take that rope into his hands and tug with all his might. His fingers curled around it. Yes, it wouldn’t be so difficult. Just a little bit of force, pulling at the rope, and if he twisted it like this, he would cut off Atem’s breathing. Yes, yes, just like that, he’d choke him, _choke him to death and his last breath would be full of suffering and beautiful and grand_ , and Seto pulled, the rope firmly twisted around his fingers. A surprised gasp, a cacophony of screams and shouts, the Pharaoh raising his hands to push at him, but it was too late, _too late_..!

“Seto?” It was the same Pharaoh’s voice that broke him out of his trance. Now Seto was the one to gasp, and he took a step back, almost staggering.

“My apologies,” he said quickly. “The rope... it was twisted. It must have been a great discomfort to you, Great Pharaoh.”

Atem glanced at him, with a hint of concern in his eyes. Those wondrous eyes, always so trusting and loving, and not a second ago, he had reveled in seeing them filled with anguish and pain. 

“It was,” he said. “Thank you, Seto.” The obvious lie was accepted. Ashamed, Seto took another step back. Atem beckoned Mahaad closer and ordered him to continue with the meeting, as if nothing had happened. Silently, Seto listened to his fellow Priest, not interrupting him even once.

\------------------------------------

At noontime, the Priests left the audience room and Seto was quick to follow. He didn’t dare to linger, he didn’t dare to stay in Atem’s presence, not after that horrible vision… or whatever it was. His firm stride brought him back quickly to his private quarters, but before he went in, he turned around. Akhenaden caught up to him, slightly out of breath.

“I did not want to hold you up,” he said, _my son_. “But is everything all right?”

“I am fine,” Seto answered. “I guess I did not sleep as well.”

“Is it because of the trouble at the main gate?”

Seto shook his head. “What trouble?”

“You did not pay attention very well, did you? I thought so. Well, apparently, this self-proclaimed King of Thieves stirred up quite a ruckus. Shaadah has written an extensive report about it.”

“Ah, I see. I will read it.” Seto waited for Akhenaden to finish the conversation so he could bid him goodbye and retreat into his room. Instead, the elderly Priest took a step forward and lowered his voice.

“This King of Thieves poses a great threat to the Kingdom,” he said. “If he can stir up a crowd so easily and has the audacity to show up at the gate, who knows what he will do next! He might enter the Pharaoh’s personal chambers!”

Fortunately, Seto wasn’t the kind to blush quickly, yet his blood rushed faster. The thought of a scoundrel, a thief, so close to Atem… yet he wondered why the thought upset him so badly. Atem was just the Pharaoh. “That would be…very unfortunate,” he admitted.

Akhenaden tilted his head. “This is a problem that we cannot solve by increasing the guards indefinitely. As long as the Pharaoh keeps up this peaceful policy, thieves and robbers will think it is okay to simply walk up to the gate or into a royal tomb.”

Seto mulled over these words. “What is it that you suggest?” he finally asked.

“We should set an example,” Akunadin said. “When a thief is caught, we will show to the nation that we will not stand for such criminal activities. We will show them the consequences of thievery.” He watched Seto carefully. “You suggested before that we should draw and quarter criminals,” he continued. “Or have you adopted the same, soft approach that every criminal’s soul should be judged, and we should feel pity for them as they are mere victims of unfortunate circumstances, as Mahaad likes to call it?”

“I do not understand,” Seto said. “You are tasked with the care of our prisoners. What made you change your mind?”

“Change my mind? Yes, I take care of the prisoners as it is my duty, assigned to me by the late Aknamkanon,” Akhenaden said. “But why should we clothe, bathe and feed those who have no respect for us? Those who would rob the Afterlife itself blind, when given the chance? The problem is that our current Pharaoh follows his father’s example too much. He needs to make a statement. He should do something about it.”

“Yes, yes, he should.” Seto said.

“And what if he fails to do so?”

“Maybe someone else could take action.” Seto frowned. That wasn’t what he had wanted to say. “The Pharaoh could give the guards a command…”

“No, Seto.” Akhenaden watched him carefully. “ _You_ could take action.”

“Me?” It didn’t sound that bad. Priest Seto. King Seto. _Pharaoh_ Seto. _What are you thinking_? He felt a headache coming up. “My apologies. I have much work to do.”

“But of course.” Akhenaden didn’t show any of his excitement. Previously, Seto would’ve bitten his head off at the tiniest hint of critique on the Pharaoh. He should’ve stolen that Key much, much sooner.

\---------------------------------------

It was very rare for the Pharaoh to have a moment to himself, let alone spend it in the beautiful garden in the company of his High Priest. They wandered around, Atem a little ahead of him. Seto followed his lead, but he didn’t know whether to feel honored or bored in the Pharaoh’s presence. His eyes kept trailing off to the Puzzle and he wondered how it would feel like to wear it. The Puzzle had to be heavy, as it was solid gold… and it was supposed to rest against _his_ chest. Seto almost tripped over his own feet.

“You are so silent,” Atem suddenly spoke. He was totally at ease, comfortably walking with his hands resting against his back. He wasn’t wearing his cape. So easy, so vulnerable. Seto needed some time to give his answer.

“I am sorry,” he said.

Atemu halted and turned around. “Something the matter? You can speak freely.” A soft, tender smile. “I have sent the guards away. We will not be disturbed.” He raised his hand and touched Seto’s upper arm. To be touched by the Pharaoh, so frankly and so familiar… it had been his lifelong dream, but now he took a step back. The hurt in Atem’s eyes was undeniable… and _glorious_ to see. “Seto..?”

“I…” What was wrong with him? He had yearned for Atem’s touch so badly, for so long! Without further hesitation, Seto reached for him, slipping one arm around his smaller waist, his other hand resting against his neck. Sighing in relief, Atem leaned into his touch; he pressed himself closer and along with him, the Puzzle pressed against Seto’s abdomen. 

“It is too much, is it not?” Shifting, Atemu turned his head so his lips caressed the palm of Seto’s hand. “The work, the pressure… us…”

“What do you mean?” Seto asked, his throat running dry.

“That we have to keep this is a secret,” Atem answered. “How I wish I could tell everyone how much I love you, Seto.”

“You are the Pharaoh. You are a son of the Gods. What you say, people will believe. You could announce our love and make it the law, and everyone will follow you.”

Atem smiled. “You are right. How would you like it, Seto, if I did announce it?”

How he would like it? This was the moment he had dreamed of. That tiny flicker of hope he had had, should explode with love and pride, but he actually felt… very little. Like a light had gone out in his heart, like all of the warmth had left his body. He stared at Atem, who was awaiting his answer. 

“You are so fragile,” Seto said. He ignored the confusion on Atem’s face. “Weak. Vulnerable. You are not strong enough, and you are wearing something that does not belong to you.”

“What…” Atem yelped when Seto grabbed the Puzzle. “Seto..!”

“Shut _up_!” He hit him, across the face, breaking his nose. He kept hitting him, working him to the ground. Blood spattered everywhere, the dark red color marring the Atem’s skin. He wasn’t Atem anymore, he was the Pharaoh, and he was the wrong Pharaoh. Seto continued to hit him, all the while holding the Puzzle in his other hand, his fingers cramped around the object. “It is mine! Mine! You do not have any right to wear it!”

Maybe Atem called his name. Maybe he screamed. Maybe the despair and pain in his voice reached Seto’s ears, but it was too late. The pain in his hand barely registered, the knuckles chafed and his skin broken from the impact, over and over again. He kept hitting Atem until Seto’s heavy breathing was the only sound in the garden. This wasn’t right. They loved each other… love… he brought up his balled fist, his knuckles torn open, blood on his skin. His eyes went wide. He didn’t dare to look down. Someone called his name. _Seto. Seto_. It was Atem, it had to be him. His voice had died down earlier, but now it was back, haunting his mind.

“Stop it,” Seto whispered. “Stop it!” _Seto. Seto_! “STOP!”

With a scream, he shot upright and pushed at the table in front of him. He pushed to hard that he all but flipped the piece of furniture, and the scrolls, ink and writing utensils clattered to the floor. He could still hear someone calling his name, and it took him precious time to realize that it came from outside, behind the door. It wasn’t Atem’s voice.

“Priest Seto,” someone called and then, another tentative knock on the door. “Priest Seto?”

With a few steps, Seto was at the door and opened it. The guard, with his hand held up high to knock again, swallowed audibly.

“What is it?” he bellowed.

The guard bowed. “Priest Seto, the Great Pharaoh requests your presence at dinner,” he said. Normally, Seto would have jumped at the occasion, but now he was aghast at the thought of sharing the dining table with the man he had… killed.

“No, no, I cannot!” Seto threw the door shut in the guard’s face. He didn’t knock again. Seto tried to calm down. He turned his table upright again and gathered all the scattered utensils and scrolls. His breathing was still uneven and he stopped for a moment, clutching at his chest. His heart ached, but he couldn’t tell what hurt him the most. Was it because he had murdered the man he loved in that horrible dream, or was it because he missed the Item that was supposed to be dangling from his neck?

\----------------------------------

The next few days, Seto made sure not to come close to Atem. He accomplished his chores and duties and stood next to the Pharaoh, but he wouldn’t look at him. He couldn’t look at him, not the same as before. With the Rod firmly tucked in the crook of his elbow, Seto would stand calm and composed and perform his task, like always… before he started to develop feelings, before he started to look at Atem with different eyes. He noticed a change in the Pharaoh’s voice when talking to him, the concern increasing each day. It didn’t bother him. It did bother him that it didn’t. He could remember how he had yearned for Atem’s touch for so long, and now he was the first to leave the audience room and avoid his company. He rebuked every other invitation and kept his distance. It irritated him. It annoyed him. It scared him that he might actually act upon what happened in his dream. That it could be real. His fingers cramped around the shaft of the Rod. He had cared for Atem. He had loved him. Out of that same love, whatever there was left of it, he would stay away from him.

“Seto,” Akhenaden’s voice started him out of his thoughts. 

“Is there something I can do for you?” Seto asked curtly.

“I was wondering if you are all right.”

“I am fine. Why would I not be?”

“We are all worried about you,” the elderly priest insisted. “You react strangely as of late.”

“I do?”

Akhenaden’s eyes traveled towards the Rod, then back to Seto’s face. “Are you sure you are fine?”

Seto refused to share his violent dreams with anyone. He just couldn’t tell any of his fellow Priests that he had killed Atem over and over again. It hadn’t been just that one dream. There had been more, and with every other dream, he would kill Atem… not only kill him, but slaughter him, destroy him, annihilate him. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t dare to confide in Atem, no matter how much he longed to hear his voice, speaking reassuring words…. 

“Yes, I am. Thank you for your concern.” Seto had the feeling that the man studied him, but he couldn’t fathom why. Mumbling an excuse about being late for his next meeting, Seto broke off the conversation and left Akhenaden standing in the hallway.

\----------------------------------

Of course, the inevitable moment arrived when he simply couldn’t refuse the invitations anymore. He had to tell Atem the truth about his horrible dreams, and how it was safer if he stayed away from him. Every evening, Atem would send a guard over to request his presence at dinner, and finally, Seto decided to accept it. He had to tell him. He missed being close to Atem. How could he make things right again? How would Atem react to his conflicted and confused state of mind? Why would he dream of killing him, only to long for him the next second? With a heavy heart, Seto went to Atem’s private quarters. The guards allowed him in; upon entering, Atem looked up from the scroll he was reading, quite surprised. He hadn’t expected Seto to finally accept. His eyes lit up and his smile widened. Seto felt comfortable and at ease in his presence; doubt and fear rolled off his shoulders, as if a giant weight was lifted. Atemu sent the servants away and waited for Seto to approach him.

“I am so glad that you could make it,” he said. No reproach, no angry discussion, no repercussions for his earlier disobedience. Seto came closer and he wanted nothing else but to take him into his arms. To touch him, to kiss him… to put his hand on his skin and _claw at it…_

“I am sorry, Great Pharaoh,” he answered, then corrected himself: “Atem…”

“I was wondering when you would speak my name again.” Atem got up from his chair and held out his hand. Seto grabbed it and gently pulled him closer. “Seto, whatever happened…”

_So close_. The Puzzle pressed against his abdomen again, and its familiar weight was oddly comforting. Atem’s arms around him, his warmth… “It is all the work, is it not?” Even his voice was comforting and warm. Neither one of them paid any attention to the food on the table. He didn’t have an answer for his Pharaoh, but Atem didn’t seem to expect an answer anyway. He tightened his fists in the fabric of his garb.

“Come with me,” Atem said, his voice a little deeper. Seto followed him of course, to the adjacent bedroom. His breath hitched in his throat. This intensity of his longing was so strong, it was almost painful. In the bedroom, with its magnificent view over the city, Atem turned around to face Seto. He took him by the arms and caressed his skin. 

“I am worried about you,” he said. “The way you reacted lately, the way you were so distant…”

“I am sorry,” Seto said again. He couldn’t apologize enough. He wanted to be with Atem so badly, this was a perfect opportunity… 

“Please, do not apologize.” Atem looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded. Seto moved his right arm, giving the Pharaoh the opportunity to put both his arms around his waist, leaving his right side wide open. “I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you too,” Seto answered, and he knew exactly _why_. He lifted the Rod from where he had stuck it in his golden belt, resting against his backside. With his thumb, he flicked off the protective end cap. It fell on the carpet on the floor, the plush fabric silencing the sound. Atem tilted his head, his lips pursed. Seto leaned into him, mimicking his gesture and their lips were about to touch, when he swung his arm and thrust the Rod forward in a quick, stabbing motion. The sharp knife end of the Rod penetrated skin and flesh, plunging deep into the unsuspecting body. The strange, choked noise coming from Atem’s lips was satisfying and horrifying at the same time. 

His eyes widened as the pain registered, and Seto pushed the end in even deeper. His knuckles turned white from his firm grip on the Rod, and with a brash movement, he twisted the Item. A deep, guttural moan rose from Atem’s throat, followed by a loud wheeze. Seto looked at him as if he wasn’t there himself, as if someone else’s hand was holding the Rod, pushing it in further and further. The amount of blood was minimal; a circle of the dark liquid started to spread where the Rod had entered, like a twisted flower about to bloom. Atem staggered backwards and disconnected from the Rod, his hands clenching at the spot where the Item had stabbed him. Blood gushed between his fingers in his attempt to close the gaping, round wound. Seto calmly watched as realization hit the Pharaoh.

Atem’s eyes fell upon Seto’s. The anguish, the pain… the _betrayal_. Seto’s lips curled upwards, but he didn’t know if it was in a smile or a grimace. _That would serve him right. The throne is mine!_ Yes, it was definitely a smile. He had reached his goal, hadn’t he? He knew what to do. With the Pharaoh gone, he could take the throne for himself. He would rule this nation and make it stronger than ever before. Seto’s smile faltered. Why would he take the throne for himself? Why would he? Why was it so important to him? Why? Atem’s voice echoed his sentiments.

“Why?” His voice was soft, so much softer than usual. It wasn’t the soft, gentle tone of voice he used to whisper sweet loving words, it was the pained, whispered soft tone of someone who barely had any strength left. He was in agonizing pain. Seto blinked. When had Atem fallen to the floor? His face, his beautiful face, scrunched up in pain and those eyes… Seto stretched both his arms. He wanted to help Atem, but he didn’t move. He was still holding the Rod in his hand, blood dripping from the knife’s end. He shivered. No, not one of those dreams again! He had killed Atemu again! These horrible dreams… no, nightmares, were so awful! Atem’s eyes were almost closed, his lips parted, another “Why?” softly traveling towards Seto’s ears. 

He stood nailed to the floor. _Wake up, wake up_! He screamed. Atem was on the floor, his breathing erratic, his fingers still clutched at the wound, and blood seeped into the carpet. This wasn’t a dream. This was real! Dropping the Rod, Seto ran towards Atem, screaming his name. Kneeling beside him, he gathered the Pharaoh in his arms.

“Atem! Atem! Gods, what have I done? Guards! Guards!”

“N-no, Seto.” Cradled against Seto’s chest, he tried to raise his bloodied hand. Seto immediately leaned into his touch, not caring that blood was smeared all over his face.

“Forgive me,” Seto pleaded. “I do not know what happened! I do not know why I did this! Atem…”

He started shaking. He couldn’t believe what he had done and he refused to look at the rapidly increasing pool of blood on the carpet. The Rod lay discarded on the floor, a couple of inches away from him. He didn’t look at the Item, he cradled Atem even closer to him, begging for forgiveness. Atem curled his fingers around the rope of the Puzzle, his strength already leaving him as he tugged at it.

“What are you doing?” Seto asked, his voice breaking.

“T-take it,” Atem said. “It is yours.”

“No…” Seto pushed his hand away. He didn’t want the Puzzle, he wanted Atem! The doors busted open and the guards stormed in.

“Over here! Over here!” Seto roared. The guards invaded the smaller bedroom, gasping and crying out when they saw their Pharaoh amidst a pool of blood, cradled in the arms of the High Priest.

“Priest Seto… what happened here? Who did this?” One of the guards turned around and dry-heaved. The amount of blood was devastating.

Seto opened his mouth to speak. He would confess his sin, he would take full responsibility. But before he could utter a word, it was Atem who spoke up in a raspy voice.

“It was the King of Thieves,” he said. “He had…he had a knife. Follow him…he went to the garden!” 

“Warn the others! Search the garden! Send for a healer!” the guard barked his orders and they dispersed. Seto leaned into Atemu, his other hand pressing against the wound, blood sticking to his fingers. 

“Why?” he asked. “Why did you not tell them it was me?”

No answer. Atem stared at him, but he didn’t see him. The last of his strength had left him and his hand lay limply in Seto’s hand. His lips were still parted, as if he was waiting to be kissed. Yet, a hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

“Do not die,” Seto said, shuddering violently. “Do not die, Atem. I need you. I love you. I can’t live without you!” He shook him, albeit gently, but he received no reaction. Too much blood, staining his shenti, soaking into the carpet and his cape, seeping over his skin. The raw, metallic scent made Seto want to gag. “Gods! Take me instead! Take me!” he hollered. He didn’t hear the approaching footsteps, he didn’t notice the guards running around, he didn’t see the healers who stared at the scene in disbelief. There was nothing they could do. 

Seto shivered violently once more and pressed Atem against him. He was still warm. He still was his, wasn’t he? Strange how it could be so silent with all that noise around him. His heart was crying, and his mind was going insane, and he couldn’t hold back no more. The cry of anguish that was torn from his throat was inhuman, resonating through the entire palace, echoing through the entire nation who had no idea yet that their beloved Pharaoh was dead. He cried out until he had no more volume or sound in him; only then, he found the strength to bring up his hand and with the utmost care, to close Atem’s eyes. He kissed him on the lips, rocking his body back and forth, back and forth. He couldn’t let him go. He had to let him go. He would have to live with his name on his lips for the rest of his life. Atem. _Farewell_. 


End file.
